


Out Of The Blue

by shrrlocked



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Cumbercollective
Genre: Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, Cumberbatch, Cumbercollective - Freeform, F/M, Friendship/Love, benedict - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrrlocked/pseuds/shrrlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannah Lee is just a normal woman, with a not-at-all-obsessive crush on a certain Sherlock actor. But when she finally has the chance to meet him that she has been waiting for for years, Benedict does something completely unexpected and her world is turned into chaos. Can any good come of this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted on wattpad - on @cumberbatchedfangirl. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think and whether I should continue this fanfic.

After five hours of standing around on the warm streets of London alone, my feet are beginning to hurt and I am thankful that I had the sense to wear comfortable pumps instead of flashy heels. Surprisingly – it’s not that surprising actually – I wasn’t the first one to arrive at the scene. There were five or six other girls there when I got there, and all of them are younger than me. It is about five-thirty now, but because we are in May the sky is still as blue as it is at midday. For once the British weather is being kind and the sun down in between the building. Mind you, you never see it rain at a premiere.  
I look up at the cinema and study the poster for the film. Benedict Cumberbatch stares down at us in the form of Khan. I never really liked, or admittedly, knew, of Star Trek before I heard that Benedict might be in it. Then I managed to find the first JJ Abrams take on it and watched the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise battling Nero at least ten times in a couple of weeks. I don’t like the look of the older Star Treks, plus I can’t find them anywhere so them I haven’t watched.   
The crowds start to gather more and more people as I only have to wait a few more minutes until the celebrities will start to arrive. The nerves and excitement are getting to me and I deal with them in the best way possible without freaking anyone else out: I ball one of my hands into a fist (the other is holding my photo to be signed) and put it in my mouth biting down on my fingers. I know it’s weird, but it’s better than other methods and it stops me from screaming myself hoarse.  
Eventually the first car pulls up, and out of it steps… Chris Pine. He is kind of hot I suppose, but compared to Benedict, he’s really not that good looking.   
With each passing minute, waiting for him to show up, my nerves increase. I can’t believe I am finally going to see him in person! I’ve been trying to meet him for years, ever since I first saw him in Heartbeat as Charles (so adorably innocent!), but I’ve never found the money or the time, what with school and moving out. Everyone makes sure to tease me for watching such and ‘old’ show, although it only stopped being made in 2010. I take no notice of them however, I was introduced to the show by one of my oldest friends about ten years ago and have been watching it ever since. It’s one of my favourites.  
Nearly all of the celebrities must be here by now, I mean, dozens of them have walked past me. The crowds have begun to thin as people see the actors they came to see and leave. Suddenly the crowd’s mutterings grab my attention.  
“Benedict’s here! I’m sure that’s him!”  
“I wonder what colour his hair is at the moment…”  
“He’s filming Sherlock at the moment so black.”  
“Benedict Cumberbatch. Yes the one from Sherlock Mum.”  
I chuckle softly to myself, unable to hide the grin spreading across my face (which is no doubt making me look like an utter idiot). Some of the things we say about him just make me laugh. We may possibly be the craziest fandom on earth, save the Sherlock fandom, but more often than not the Cumbercollective are the Sherlock fandom. Oh well…   
All of a sudden I am pressed into the railings by a surge of bodies behind me craning forward to get a good look. I would complain, but there’s no point; I have nothing to complain about. Getting pushed forward has just made my view clearer (if that was possible). A chauffer climbs out of the driver’s door of the black limo that has just pulled up and moves to the back passenger door, opening it as a figure emerges. More cheering and shouting erupts from the crowd as we confirm that, yes, it is indeed Benedict. I can’t hear anything anyone is saying right now, not that I need to.  
He gets out of the car properly now. He is so much more handsome in person, wearing a blue suit and white shirt. His hair is black, and his Sherlock curls are combed back. I lift my head and stand on my toes, hoping to meet his mesmerising eyes with my own, but I have no luck whatsoever. I try a different tactic; screaming and shouting like all the other fans, but as everyone else is doing the same it makes no difference. I don’t relent however; not once will I stop screaming or take my eyes off of him until he sees me. I could be here a while.  
He is signing things at the moment as he has had dozens of photos taken by the paparazzi already. Photos, pieces of paper, and I think he just signed someone’s hand. I hold my photo in anticipation, making sure it doesn’t get damaged at all. I am hoping with all my heart that he doesn’t have to stop signing things before he gets to me; I’m nearly at the doors to the cinema and he seems to be doing a very thorough job up at the other end.  
I feel like I am shaking all over, and to be honest, I probably am; I’m almost definitely never going to get this opportunity again, and I want it to last as long as it can. Hopefully I can get a photo as well. He pauses in his signing to glance up and scan the premiere, looking around properly for the first time since he arrived. my heart starts to race like nothing I’ve ever felt before as his eyes rest on me. Finally, I think. Out of the blue he starts to run towards me, and before I have time to comprehend anything at all I feel lips on mine and shift my gaze up to see his face millimetres away from my own.


	2. Chapter 2

It lasts only a second, one glorious, dreamy, and completely confusing second and then it’s over. His eyes open, and they are absolutely gorgeous. Better than I’ve ever dreamed they would be in person. I must be dreaming, the premiere hasn’t happened yet… but everything is too… too real to be a dream. He takes one look at me, and his eyes widen as he realises what he’s done. They’re filled with regret, which disappoints me for a second before I realise that why wouldn’t they be? This for him was a stupid mistake, and that’s all. It meant nothing to him. Why would it?   
He backs off, and runs into the cinema, without a glance back. Everything is in slow motion, and it seems to take me about a minute to realise that the paparazzi have surrounded me, although it’s probably only seconds. I bring my hands up to cover my face and push my way through the crowd, back towards the street and, hopefully, privacy. Once I escape the suffocating mass of people, I walk faster and faster, just wanting to get away, to get home and think. Just think.   
As I break free, I notice that the throng of people has taken back up its screaming match; obviously someone else has turned up. Hopefully the paparazzi didn’t get any good photos of me, any that they could identify me from. That’s the last thing I need, to be identified. How could I think that the universe would be kind enough for me to meet Benedict without something going disastrously wrong? I slow back down to a walk, but before I can go very far I hear fast footsteps behind me. I turn and am ready to start running again, in case it is paparazzi or a reporter.  
But it’s neither; it’s one of the security blokes from the cinema.   
“Excuse me miss?” he says, making his way towards me. He towers over me at over six feet high, but he doesn’t get too near, I presume he doesn’t want to seem menacing. “I have spoken to Mr Cumberbatch about the… events… of earlier and he has made me promise to keep everything I know a secret. He would also like me to get your name and number in case anything needs to be sorted out between you and his agent for example.”  
“Such as what?” I snap. I know it’s not fair to take out my confused emotions on him, but he’s the only thing around.   
“Well… in case you wanted to sue for instance.” He takes out a small black writing pad and a biro for me to write with. “Which he says he is completely fine with; he understands that this has put you in a very awkward position and he sends his deepest apologies.”   
Apologies for what? For giving me what every other Cumberbitch can only dream of: a kiss from him? I sigh and take the pad and pen, wondering what would’ve happened if this hadn’t. I scribble down my name and number, hoping it will never have to be used, before striding away to my car.

*****

I open the wooden door to my flat to find it as silent as I left it. Before I can even remove my coat my phone starts to ring. I check the caller ID before answering.  
“Hey Mum,” I say, sliding off my coat and sitting down on the sofa. Hopefully she won’t notice any abnormalities in my voice.  
“Hey Han, how was it?” Ugh. She still feels she has to check on me about everything since my roommate Rosie moved out a few days ago, even though I’m twenty four.  
“It was great Mum.” Understatement of the century. “Mum, you do know that I don’t need to be checked on constantly. I’m not three anymore, much as you’d like me to be, I can look after myself.”  
“Haha, very funny. I just worry about you now that you’re all alone in the flat. Have you seen Rosie recently? Oh, and I’m glad it went well; you’ve been looking forward to it for months. Did you get an autograph?”   
Oh great, what do I say to that? “No I haven’t seen her since the last time you called which was… let me see… two hours ago. And um… no… I didn’t get an autograph.”   
“Why not? You did get there early enough didn’t you?”  
“Yeah I did, but um... he wasn’t signing anything for anyone... Anyway, got to go Mum, speak soon.”  
I hang up before she could say anything else and let the phone drop numbly to my side. 

*****

When I get in bed later that night I lie there and contemplate the events of the day. The full realisation of what actually happened suddenly hits me:   
Benedict Cumberbatch kissed me. On the lips.   
Obviously it was embarrassing, I mean, it was in front of everyone, and the paparazzi. I can still feel the warmth of his lips on mine and only now do I realise that his hands had been grasping my shoulders. I fall asleep with the memory still fresh in my mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised that this has got as many hits as it has! On Wattpad only about five people read it... Anyway thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

I don’t dream. I toss and turn all night, but I am unable to find the source of my discomfort. I don’t know how long I sleep for; all I know is that when I wake up, my room is basked in sunlight. Just as I grab my phone to check the time it starts ringing.

“Hello?” I say, I was stupid enough not to check the caller ID; it’s probably Mum wondering why I’m so late getting up.

“Hi,” says the voice on the other end. It’s deep, and I vaguely recognise it, though I don’t know where from. “Is this Hannah Lee?”

“Umm… yeah…” I say cautiously. Before I can ask who it is, they hang up, leaving me listening to the kids in the flat below fighting.

Sighing, I sling on a t-shirt and jeans. I walk into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Last night then comes back to me, every single detail. I stand frozen for a minute, before walking over to my laptop and turning it on.

I hold my breath as I type google the Star Trek: Into Darkness premiere. I click on the BBC news link, hoping they hadn’t identified me.

 

**_Mysterious Girl Gets One Hell Of A Meet And Greet At The Star Trek: Into Darkness Premiere_ **

_Sherlock star Benedict Cumberbatch has us all waiting to hear his version of last night. A mere minute after arriving on the red carpet for his latest film, in which he plays a mass murdering villain, Cumberbatch surprised everyone by walking over to a girl (not yet named) and kissing her passionately in front of fans, paparazzi and stars alike. He then walked into the cinema without a word._

_Cumberbatch was asked to give an interview about the incident, but refused to open up and give us the truth behind his actions. He left the cinema early, before the film had finished, and hasn’t been seen since._

 

There is more to the article, but I have no interest for reading it. These two paragraphs have made me wary, wondering if anyone at all recognised me. I realise that I will have to be extremely careful about what I say and do. I have to just act like another fangirl and blog about it.

But that’s another thing, I won’t be able to go on tumblr or watch the news. I mean, just imagine what people will be saying about me. They might think I actually know Benedict, have gone out with him in the past. What have I ever done in my life to deserve possible ridicule from the whole world?

I have nothing to do today, so I get on with all of the housework that I should have done before I left for the premiere, all the hovering and dishes that seem too normal in my messed up world. I suppose this is how I’ll be living now, pretending. The house is eerily silent, and though I will never admit this, silence scares me. I decide to put on the TV and sit down with a cup of steaming coffee. Carefully avoiding the news channel, I put on the latest episode of The Big Bang Theory, and I have to admit, it makes me cry.

Three Big Bangs and a How I Met Your Mother later there’s a knock at the door, so I pause the TV and make my way over. Standing before my door is a tall man, wearing navy jeans, a pair of scuffed black trainers, and a dark green hoody that casts a shadow over his face, making me unable to make out any of his features.

“Umm… hello?”

“Hi, can I come in?” His voice sounds friendly enough, despite me thinking he was a threatening figure.

“Umm… who are you exactly?”

“That would take away the surprise.” I can almost hear the mischievous grin on his face. “Wait a second.” I watch as he digs around in his pocket for something and eventually fishes out a mobile phone. He types away for a few seconds before returning it to his pocket.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I take it out.

 

**1 new text message from 07632 479392**

_Now will you let me in?? ;-)_

I read the number a couple of times before recognising it.

“Hang on… you’re the person who rang earlier. You asked me who I was and then hung up. That was extremely rude.”

“Yeah that was me, sorry about that.” I recognise his voice now, from the phone call, and I am certain that he is telling the truth.

I let him in now, still a bit cautious, but these walls are paper thin and my neighbours will hear if I’m in trouble. As he enters the living room, he unzips his hoody and removes the hood, revealing his face. My eyes widen in shock as I realise who it is, and from the smug look on his face, it’s obvious that I look like a real idiot.

“Oh my god. No. This… this isn’t real.” I try and convince myself that I’m still in bed, dreaming, because there is no way this is actually happening.

“I wanted to apologise for last night. I don’t know what happened, I just… I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry. Hopefully the press won’t be too bad,” Benedict says, looking me straight in the eye, something I wouldn’t have been able to do in his situation.

“You’ve already apologised, through that security person.” I look around the room, already uncomfortable for many reasons. I know I shouldn’t be as blunt as I am being. That I should just be able to forgive him and enjoy having him in my living room, as any other person would do. But the circumstances have made that impossible.

He looks down at his feet. “I wanted to apologise in person. Plus, you never got that autograph you probably came for.” He hands me a photo of himself, which he has signed. It said:

_Hannah, I am sorry about what happened. I hope you can forgive me. Benedict Cumberbatch._

However, the photo is nothing compared to him in real life, standing in my poor excuse for a home. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Um… thank you,” I say, gesturing for him to sit down. He’ll probably leave now, he has no reason to stay, but I offer anyway, because it’s polite. “Would you like a drink?”

“Just water please,” he says, and to my surprise he sits down.

The awkwardness in the room is unwelcome to say the least, but it can’t be avoided. As I make my way into the kitchen, I wonder if he’s seen anything that the press have written about me, or him, though he’s probably used to it by now.

I get his glass of water and stand by the armchair, quite a way away from him. He drinks his water before speaking again, and I kind of wish the radio was on, so that there is something other than silence.

“Are you going to sit down?” His voice startles me, but then my brain – which is working overdrive trying to get around the fact that this gorgeous, talented man is sat on my sofa – manages to make sense of the statement and I sit down on the opposite side of the sofa.

I bring my cup of tea to my lips. It’s cold. Setting it down again, I take a deep breath and prepare to speak, but Benedict beats me to it.

“Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Ha, are you kidding me? This place is way too cramped, but it’s the best I can afford so…” I trail off as I remember that I am talking to a sophisticated actor, not my best friend. “There’s another reason you’re here, isn’t there? You could have just sent me it in the post or something, but no, you came down here, apologised personally and now you’re sat on my sofa drinking water for no apparent reason. But there is a reason, yeah? Not that I’m complaining or anything? But, my brain needs an explanation… please?”

“I was getting to it, I just, didn’t know _how_ to explain myself. For a while I have wanted to get to know one or two of my fans. Not just about them, but personally meet with them regularly and just, well, chat. I was going to do a competition for it, but I think I owe you this chance. Of course it’s entirely up to you, but the offers there if you want to take it.

“I’ll let you think about it. You have my mobile number now, text me, if you want.” He stands up and begins to leave. “Oh, and don’t tell anyone, please. I’d really appreciate it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I haven't updated in a while, but I am a perfectionist, and it took me ages to get this one right. But it's a reasonably long chapter so... I don't know, maybe it makes up for it?
> 
> Please let me know what you think so far.

**Chapter 4**

I wake the next morning, and sit up slowly as I think about last night. It must have been a dream, because nothing good ever happens to me. I reach for my phone to check the time and see that I’ve got a text.

 

**From: 07632 479392:**

_I think I left my jacket at yours. Let me know when I can collect it. :-)_

I type out a quick reply to the number I don’t recognise.

 

**From: Hannah**

_Who is this??_

 

Before I have chance to set my phone back on my bedside table, I get a reply.

 

**From: 07632 479392:**

_You’re kidding right? I’ll give you a clue; think embarrassing. ;-)_

Oh God. No. It did happen. Everything happened. Nope. Hang on… he wanted to get to know me… and I need to reply to him. Before I do though, I add his number to my contacts.

**From: Hannah**

_Got it… >-< Does the offer still stand?? I still half think I was dreaming about yesterday._

**From: Benedict**

_You weren’t, and yes, it does. No pressure though._

**From: Hannah**

_It’d be my pleasure :-) When do you want to collect your jacket?? I’m here most of the week..._

**From: Benedict**

_What about later on today? You can come over as well if you like._

I am typing out a reply when I get another text.

 

**From: Benedict**

_I know I should’ve made this clear yesterday. This is a platonic thing, sorry if you misunderstood._

 

**From: Hannah**

_I thought it was platonic anyway. But yeah, I’d love to come. :-)_

**From: Benedict**

_I’ll pick you up at eleven :-)_

 

I glance to the top of my screen at the clock: quarter past ten. I’ve got forty-five minutes to get ready.

*****

“Hey,” Benedict says when I open the door. He’s wearing the blue denim shirt, and dark jeans. It’s not cold enough for a jacket. I gesture for him to come inside, but he stays where he is. “I’d rather we get going straight away, before anyone recognises the car - if that’s okay?”

I smile. It’s so true about him being a gentleman. “Okay, just let me get our jackets.”

I turn around and head back into the living room, snatching them from the sofa. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what’s happening. Everyone always seems so calm when things like this happen; I have no idea how…

I return to the door to find the hallway empty. Where is he? I peek out of the window, and to my relief his car is still out there. I lock up and go outside onto the pavement. It’s actually really warm out here, despite the misleading grey skies, and I feel too dressed up. I walk up to the jag, hoping it is his car. I lean down and look in the window.

Benedict is sat in there talking to someone on his phone. I knock gently on the window. He glances up and gestures for me to get in. I pull open the door and lower myself into the glamourous car. It’s safe to say that this is the most expensive car I have ever been in. I am tempted to ask why he chose a jag, but he’s in all the adverts so of course he has one.

“Yeah, sorry Steven I have to go, I’ll see you Monday? Okay bye.” He ends the phone call and looks at me. “Right, shall we go? Sling the jackets in the back.”

I do just that before turning to look at the road. “Where are we going exactly?” I ask. “You haven’t actually said.”

“Oh, um, yeah… I was thinking we could go back to mine. Purely because people might talk if we went somewhere in public, especially after… you know…”  

I nod. I thought it the awkwardness between us would go away, but now I realise it might never leave. “Okay, cool…”

We drive for a few minutes, exchanging small talk, and things smooth over a bit. We pull off of the main road, turning into a small, well-kept car park. He stops the engine and gets out, before walking round and opening my door for me.

“Why thank you,” I say, smiling up at him and raising my body up and out of the Jag.

“I usually come through the back way because, well, no-one can really see this area so I’m not spotted.”

As he opens the door, I am suddenly nervous. I am about to enter Benedict Cumberbatch’s flat. Many people on Tumblr would pay a lot of money to come here. And I can’t tell anyone.

My eyes sweep the room, taking in everything: the various shades of the hardwood floor; the gentle lime green paint on the walls of the open plan living area and kitchen; the fact that everything is spotless, but still looks like it’s lived in; and the way the light shines in on it all from the big skylights above. I wonder how much time he actually spends here, or whether he has it cleaned regularly. Because it really is very clean.

Benedict tells me to sit down on the couch whilst he gets us drinks from the modern fridge in the corner. I look around some more, noticing the hallway leading to three more doors. I also notice the lack of a TV, maybe he just doesn’t run the risk of seeing himself on there.

His hand in front of me holding a glass of diet coke pulls me from my train of thought. “Thanks,” I say, “Nice place you’ve got.” I feel like such an idiot for saying it. He’s one of the most renowned actors in the world; of course his flat is stunning.

“Thanks,” he replies, a small smile appearing on his equally stunning face. “It’s not normally this tidy, but I’ve just had it renovated, so I haven’t had much time to mess it up.”

We both chuckle a bit at that. It helps to improve the atmosphere in the room, which is still too tense for my liking. There’s still something pestering me, something that’s been at the back of my mind for about two days. I decide I can’t wait any longer.

“I’m sorry I have to ask, what the hell happened the other night?” I regret asking immediately, and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to high hell he won’t take it the wrong way.

“You mean, at the Star Trek thing?” Benedict’s voice surprises me, the way it is so calm for the situation, or maybe that’s his acting training.

“Well… yeah…”

“Umm… this is really awkward.” He looks away and scratches his neck, before looking back in my direction and saying:

“It was a dare.”


End file.
